


The End of the Century

by dadsinc



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Future, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Needles, Pain, Post-Apocalypse, References to Drugs, The medical kind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-11-05 08:00:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11009274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dadsinc/pseuds/dadsinc
Summary: Kyungsoo wakes up to pain.





	The End of the Century

**Author's Note:**

> Written for shiritori :)  
> The 'sympathetic' I keep mentioning is the sympathetic nervous system (SNS), which, is one of the two main divisions of our autonomic nervous system. The sympathetic nervous system's main job is to simulate our fight-or-flight response. [/end of anatomy class]. 
> 
> Diazepam is a medication that typically produces a calming effect. In the US it's marketed as Valium.

_“Once you’re gone you can’t come back...”_

Kyungsoo wakes with a loud gasp and the dark voice ringing in his ears, promptly sitting up. In his chest, his heart is racing. His skin is covered with sweat, thick beads tickling down the side of his face. Licking his lips, he tastes salt. White noise fills his ears, high pitched beeps making it impossible to hear anything. Teeth clacking, Kyungsoo gets up on his wobbly feet, pulls on a pair of boxers before walking out of the makeshift bedroom, throwing a gaze over his shoulder to make sure he’s still asleep. 

Fumbling, Kyungsoo locates their water-storage, digs a bottle out of the darkness. It’s tepid but to Kyungsoo it feels like heaven. He drains half of the bottle before pausing to breathe, panting. In his chest, his heart is still racing as if he’s been running to save his life, refusing to calm down. His entire body is thrumming, going haywire. Fight or flight activated. 

The floor, mostly made up of rough planks, feels like needles under the bare soles of Kyungsoo’s feet. Bottle still in hand, Kyungsoo makes his way to one of the windows in the dark room. It’s bright outside even though it’s still night. Summer makes him feel some sort of jet-lagged with it being bright at all hours. His internal clock, however, tells him that it’s still night; his eyes sting as if to agree. He should be in bed. 

Sympathetic activated, Kyungsoo’s body is preparing to fight, flight; preparing for war. He’s just seconds away from bolting out of the door, fighting against his own nervous system, repeatedly telling himself that it’s ok. It’s okay, he’s okay. In his head, an alarm is ringing, loudly, wrecking through his body. His brain is aching. It’s too much.  
Gritting his teeth, Kyungsoo unscrews the cork, forces himself to drink more water while breathing heavily through his nose. He’s okay. Once the bottle is empty, he throws it away, the sound of the plastic hitting the wooden floor barely making it through the constant ringing in his ears. His right hand is clenched to a fist, his left coming up to touch gingerly at the base of his neck, over his tattoo that’s bulging against his skin. 

They’re still trying to control him. With the tips of his index- and middle finger, Kyungsoo traces the straight lines of the tattoo absently, eyes hazy as he looks out through the window. The Dome is easily viewable from the shack. There’s about a thirty-minute walk to get there, but due to its enormous size, it’s easily viewable from _anywhere_. Through it looks unprotected, Kyungsoo knows it’s not. There are huge, invisible walls, laced with electricity, ready to fry anyone trying to get in or escape. More for show than anything else, the entire city within the Dome is protected by an actual, visible, wall that makes the ancient, Chinese Wall-lore, look like a tiny picket fence. Supposedly, the Government were inspired by the fable of the wall that protected the old country known as China. It was built hundreds and hundreds of years ago and even though scientists and archeologists alike have tried; it has never been found. 

The Great Wall protecting the Dome is made with bricks made of tungsten infused with diamonds. So says the rumor. No one quite knows what it’s made of, except the Government. Apparently, it has its weaknesses which is why they’re constantly working on it. The Wall covers the entirety of the Dome, running for kilometers and miles, surrounding it from every angle on the ground. The reason why it’s called the Dome, is because of the dome-roof that’s wrapping the entire city in from above. It’s invisible, but makes it impossible to enter it from the air. Rumors has it that under the dome there are the same invisible walls, explosive with electricity to make it impossible to dig a tunnel from the Outside to the inside of the Dome. 

In the middle of the Dome, there’s a huge tower, sending out infrared signals to all of the tattoos to the people living in it. Those signals are strong enough to reach the ones who has escaped or left, like Kyungsoo. It’s not as strong, won’t brainwash Kyungsoo due to the distance but it’s enough to send his sympathetic nervous system into high drive.  
It’s almost a miracle, Kyungsoo thinks, that he hasn’t had a heart attack yet. 

The heaviness of a hand rests suddenly against the bare skin of his shoulder, Kyungsoo’s brain reels, his sympathetic finally, finally getting to spring into actual action as Kyungsoo, not thinking twice, grabs the person by the wrist, easily overpowering him, slamming him against the wooden wall next to the window. Blood pounding in his ears, Kyungsoo’s free hand quickly finds the person’s throat, tightening his grip on the trachea, aiming to crush it completely before he registers a pair of very familiar brown, kind eyes. 

“Kinky,” Baekhyun croaks, wiggling his eyebrows. Kyungsoo lets go at once.

_Shit_. 

“Sorry,” Kyungsoo says quickly, curling his fingers around the wrist of the hand that just tried to kill Baekhyun. His sympathetic nervous system is going off like an alarm in his body. Kyungsoo fights it with every tired fiber in his body, exhausted. At this point he wants to faint, wants his body to give in, wants to _die_. 

White, hot pain launches from each of the round points of his tattoo, four on each side of his spine, three at the back of his head, hidden under black strands of hair. In total, there are 11 straight lines running down his back, over his spine. They all end up in a perfect, horizontal line at the small of his back. Inside the tattoo, there are bits of information. It’s tattooed onto the skin of every newborn in the Dome and keeps track of everything from a person’s heart rate to their mood, their location. Kyungsoo’s is kind of broken, has been ever since he sliced up parts of his back on a wired fence. It’s still working, partly. Especially the pain-part. The Government can instruct the computer chips planted along his spine to send out shocks. It’s so specific that they can narrow it down to only Kyungsoo’s tattoo, seeing as they know his ID-number. 

Kyungsoo’s head feels like it’s going to explode; his entire spine feels like it’s attempting to rip through his skin. He feels sick, nausea claiming his body quicker than he anticipated it would. Sinking to his knees, Kyungsoo clutches his head, breathing forcibly through clenched teeth as he tries to fight off the pain. His skin pricks, it smells like something is burning. Gasping, Kyungsoo clenches his eyes shut, feels second away from throwing up, seconds away from fainting. 

“Hey, Kyungsoo,” Baekhyun says from _somewhere_. It sounds as if he’s coming back from somewhere. Kyungsoo didn’t register him leaving at all. There are small hands on his back and thighs, guiding him in a soft voice until Kyungsoo’s sitting on the floor, back against the wall under the window, legs spread out in a v. Squinting, Kyungsoo sees Baekhyun’s silhouette kneeling between his legs. 

Despite his head throbbing in pain, Kyungsoo opens his eyes fully, meeting Baekhyun’s kind eyes. They’re usually, more often than not actually, filled with mirth. Even though Kyungsoo has seen him serious on numerous occasions, he never really gets used to it. Baekhyun’s smile was what made Kyungsoo fall in love with him after all.  
Baekhyun smiles then, expression softening some. 

“I like your smile too,” Baekhyun says softly, reaching out to cup Kyungsoo’s cheek. Fuck he had spoken out loud. 

“Yeah, you did.” 

“I do, though,” Kyungsoo says. “I do love your smile.” 

Baekhyun kisses him then, letting Kyungsoo feel that special smile against his lips for a brief moment. Since Kyungsoo’s not living a fairy tale, Baekhyun’s kiss doesn’t make the pain stop; doesn’t make everything okay. However, Baekhyun’s kiss tells Kyungsoo that he’s there for him. Baekhyun is there for him when he needs him the most, and to Kyungsoo, that’s the most important thing. 

“I think,” Baekhyun murmurs after pulling away, carding one hand gently through Kyungsoo’s hair. “I think we’ve postponed this for too long.”

“Hm?” Kyungsoo hums, eyes fluttering shut as he tries to focus on Baekhyun’s touches despite the pain that’s threatening to rip him apart. 

“We need to find Yifan and his group,” Baekhyun says carefully, eyes measuring Kyungsoo’s expression. When Kyungsoo opens his mouth to protest, Baekhyun continues, voice slightly louder. “You know they’re the only ones who _might_ be able to help you, Kyungsoo. You can’t continue like this.” 

Baekhyun’s right, Kyungsoo knows.

“We don’t have an unlimited supply of these shots, and, frankly, you’re not supposed to be on them for more than a couple of months. You’re getting closer to that limit. You’re already addicted to it. We got to get you off it and get you some help.” 

Biting his lower lip, Kyungsoo nods. 

“I don’t really like it, but I guess you’re right.” 

Baekhyun smiles gently. 

“I’m going to give you this shot, then we’re moving to the bed, and I’ll pack while you sleep the pain off. Hopefully the Government assholes are done torturing you when you wake up,” Baekhyun says, heat in his voice as he mentions the Government. 

Baekhyun expertly drains the vial with the syringe, filling it up completely. 40 mg of some drug. Kyungsoo only knows that the active substance is diazepam, knows that it does what it promises. Or rather, what Yixing promised it’d do when he handed him the case with the vials before he went to re-join Yifan’s group.  
Gently, Baekhyun kneads Kyungsoo’s left thigh. Both of his thighs are scattered with microscopic puncture wounds from the needles. It looks like freckles, Kyungsoo thinks absently. Murmuring something, Baekhyun deftly breaks the skin with the tip of the syringe; slowly emptying its content in the muscle of Kyungsoo’s thigh. Baekhyun isn’t really qualified to do this, but he had learnt quickly the couple of days Yixing had stayed with them. 

When the syringe is empty, Baekhyun pulls the needle out of Kyungsoo’s thigh, eyes on the small wound to make sure it’s not coming back out. Baekhyun sighs, patting Kyungsoo’s thigh as he gets up and vanishes from Kyungsoo’s vision. The injection is no miracle cure; it takes some minutes to work, and when they finally hit, Kyungsoo is knocked unconscious. 

Swiftly, Baekhyun returns, helps Kyungsoo to his feet, and together they head for the bedroom. 

Kyungsoo’s eyes are heavy as his body hits the mattress, barely conscious enough to feel Baekhyun pulling thin cotton sheets over his body. Baekhyun curls in behind him, so close that Kyungsoo can feel the warmth from Baekhyun’s body against his own. And as Kyungsoo submits to the drug, the pain ebbing out of his body, he falls asleep. The last thing he feels is Baekhyun’s mouth pressing butterfly kisses to his swollen tattoo, his fingers tracing _’I love you’_ s into Kyungsoo’s skin.


End file.
